Just Us: The Kitchen Was Never My Best Room...But I Came By It Honestly

Thursday, April 21, 2016

The Kitchen Was Never My Best Room...But I Came By It Honestly

I have always admitted that the kitchen was not my best room. Give me a raw, uncooked chicken, and I must admit, I am stumped as to what I am supposed to do with it. But, I come by it honestly.

My mother was not a good cook. She was an OK cook. She had her specialties--fried chicken, potato salad, things like that, but overall she wasn't a good cook.

To be fair, she was the first child of two cooks who owned a restaurant in Lakewood. As I recall, her mother, could make a ham sandwich taste like it came from heaven--but, my mother was stuck at home in Lakewood, taking care of her siblings--Beverly, who was two years younger and Dick and Don, four and five years younger, otherwise known as "the boys..." as in, "take the boys with you...." "Did you feed the boys....?" Her "job" was to take care of the kids at home. She was a mother long before her time and she resented it.

My aunt, Beverly, was a beautiful woman. She loved opera at a very young age and called the music of the day that my mother listened to, "clanging, like pots and pans." As I recall, she was "pink." I saw a picture of her in her youth...she had long brown hair and blue eyes. She had pink cheeks and a small, pink mouth. She was breath taking. My mother, on the hand, had a strong, large nose that she got from her father, mousy hair and angry eyes.

My mother's side of the family was plagued with mental disease, and my aunt Beverly, was a victim. She lost her mind in her early 20's and spent most of her life in a mental institution.

But, I am missing the point of my blog. I can cook some things. Today, Tony and I were going to have ribs, potato salad and deviled eggs--the last two menu items, being "my specialty."

Well, I made the potatoes and started to boil the eggs when I heard a "popping" sound and smelled a terrible odor. Earlier in the day, I put the eggs on the back burner of the stove to get to room temperature. I filled a pot of water to boil the eggs and put it on the front burner. After about 20 minutes, I saw eggs exploding and smelled a burnt egg carton. The pot on the front burner, was silently mocking me, saying, "ha ha, you turned on the wrong burner." And I did.

I realized that I put the egg carton on the back burner of the stove and instead of "lighting" the front burner, I turned the back burner on high. Oh crap....eggs were exploding all over and the plastic "of sorts" carton was melting on top of the stove. The smell was unbelievable.

I met Tony on the porch and reminded him that the kitchen was not my best room. He was kind. He said he would clean the burner and that all was well.

I felt better. I moved away from the burnt burner and turned my attention to making the deviled eggs. They were perfect--well, until Tony pointed out that I didn't put paprika on the top of them--I confused paprika with cinnamon. OK, so, we had burnt deviled eggs with cinnamon....not my best meal...not my best room.

The kitchen has never been my best room...but, I come by it honestly.

See the carnage....